Identity
by angelscoverupyourpin
Summary: All my childhood life, I was rejected by my peers. Even by the one I would learn to love. This is the story of how one person's bravery can be more powerful than twenty people's unacceptance. I have nearly lost he who I care most for. My name is not important, neither is his. This is a story about my boyfriend.


This is the hardship of my life. I won't tell you my name yet, because you might know who I am. That's what I'm trying to avoid, what I have been avoiding now for five years. When I first realised who I really was, I was twelve. Now, at the age of seventeen, I am abused for what I love. Correction, who. He didn't even know who I was until he hurt me. That was in high school. Hmm, yes, let's tell you about our encounter.

_Four years ago, high school, a Thursday, lunchtime._

_Today, is not a good day. I've never been a normal person. I always hated sports, hated acting like a prick in the changing rooms in P.E. and getting with all the girls. I was never malicious, or harmful, or hateful in any way. But, almost all the time, I am hated upon. People throw stones at me in the street, in the yard, in the fields outside the school. Unclean, they called me. The Unclean Child. Amongst other names, which I won't mention. It's summer, the day of rounders. I'm okay in rounders, can actually hit the ball. But whenever I run, I get tripped up by the person who stands on first base. Not one teacher ever noticed me being bullied. The only thing my torturers were clever at was deception. I am bruised over my stomach. My ribs hurt on the right. Pain. A gash on my face, caused by a rock colliding with it, piercing me like I was sugar paper. In English, I heard whispers of a fight. A fight of one side: I was not that side. Trapped, behind the Maths block, being attacked with stones and glass, one even threw my own bag. Ten minutes, non-stop. One of them knew how to tie knots, they'd been to Cubs. A blindfold. A metal cage. Snide laughter. One voice stands out. A boy._

_'Enjoy the dark, Simon' _My real name is not Simon, that is for later. Back to the story. _'Even though he hurt me, I still loved him. He was so perfect. His eyes, so wide and blue, his lips so full and pink. That voice, like raindrops in the summer. The blindfold is damp with my tears. The noise from my throat hitches as more tears flood my face. A door opens, I can feel the light. _

_'I'm sorry.' said the raindrops. Why has he come back for me if he put me in there? Everyone does it for the same reason. I kissed a boy in my year a few years ago, it was a surprise to me as well. But I was beaten by the entire class for three weeks, until one day I collapsed and was taken into hospital. Not that it stopped them from hurting me in less extreme, but equally powerful ways. I've always liked boys. They're more genuine than girls. I'm not trying to say that all girls are fakes, but I just hate the way they falsify._

_He removed the tie, stared into my reddening wet eyes. Smiles. 'Are you okay?' Stupid question. I flinch. And then I begin to sob again. He touches my shoulder. 'I'm here for you.' And that's when he plants a soft kiss onto my cheek with those tender lips I've stared at all too often. He whispers a sentence, helps me up and leaves._

_'I feel the same about you.'_

That was a while ago. Secretly, he's invited me to so many places. He loved me. Ever since I first got attacked. He never told anyone about his sexuality, kept it hidden. But that never stopped him getting glimpses of other guys crotches when he was in the showers. He never could resist. I knew I loved him too. For three years, we kept our double life a secret.

Prom approached with lightning speed.

He wanted to tell his friends, tell the whole school his true identity, declare himself.

I never feared for his life before then.

May. June. The day was here, he would gather his friends on the fields at four. I would wait in school until quarter past, and then walk over to him, support him. Hopefully it would go well. I was wrong.

4.15, and I approach the field from the side, seeing a group of people with one standing slightly away. The solitary person wasn't him. The clump of figures wasn't a crowd, it was a frenzy. Screams. He was being murdered. No, he didn't die.

I ran, I threw my fists at every one who connected with them. It worked for a while, but soon, they noticed me and hit me back. One punch got me in the chest, I couldn't breathe. A few minutes later, I was on the floor, choking on my own body, lying sideways looking at the slient motionless form of my boyfriend. I can't describe what noise I made. His face... it wasn't a face anymore. Laughter, was all I could hear. Malice. That was when I cracked. Single handedly, I managed to lift myself onto my feet, and throw my words at them, about how they were less than a person. I couldn't breathe could I? One of them went to kick me. I beat him to the punch, quite literally. His nose was broken for eight weeks. They all left then, knowing that the police could be here soon. I fell. Crawled over to his lifeless body, called an ambulance, and sung him a serenade.

In hospital he stopped breathing. He had three broken ribs, a broken arm, and a dislocated shoulder. Deep cuts and gashes, and a ruptured vein in his other arm and while he was there, his lung collapsed. Those little... He was in hospital for two months! I recovered, and in school they were slandered. Everyone hated them, what they had done. Now the whole school knew of how me and him were together, how brave he was.

August.

My first smile in months. He was okay, enough for me to kiss him. I spent forever with him. We went to the same college, hardly anyone looked at us like those 'friends' of his did when they knew. Everyone accepted us, apart from two people, the two who had broken his bones. We learned how to be accepted. Even when people hate you, we knew that someone out there didn't. Each other.

This is the story of how I found Liam.

Of how I learned not to bow down to those who would end up lesser than I would.

Of how one persons bravery can be stronger than twenty people's violence.

I am called Callum.


End file.
